Better than a Wife
by RebelRebel36
Summary: She wasn't a wife nor would she ever will be. To our dear Fagin, she was much more than a title. She was the wild being who gave him something to think about, something to worry about, something to care about. She cared for him as well, only it was harder for her to admit.
1. Back in London

_Hello, dears. This is my first official fanfic. I based it on the 1968 Oliver! movie just because I fell in love with Ron Moody's Fagin. I have not read the novel but might so things could change. They probably wont, but there is still that possibility. Of course, I only own Miss Estelle and the plot line. Everything else belongs to their rightful owners._

_Enjoy!_

Walking down the old street sent shivers of an oddly nostalgic feeling down my spine. Why I ever came back was beyond me. Maybe I really did miss him though I doubted he remembered me. I didn't know where he was or if he was still here. Had he left? Had he been hung?

I wondered into the tavern he had spent so much time in, hoping that if he _was_ still here, his routine wouldn't have changed much. It wasn't as crowded as I recalled but it was still early; the sun was just beginning to set. After sitting at a lone table and ordering a beer, it wasn't long before the night crowd came in. The swoosh of a familiar green coat caught my eye.

It was him.

A strange feeling fluttered in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I wasn't used too, partially because it was the reason I left in the first place. Apparently I had missed him a lot more than I thought I did. He didn't look much different, just older and lankier. His clothes were the same, only dirtier. By now, he was 20 or 21; I had only been gone for a few years. I watched as he began to scan the room. His analytical stare hadn't changed much either. I glanced down as he gaze went over me. It was almost like I didn't want him to remember me. I almost jumped out of my seat when I looked up to see him sitting across from me - smiling.

"'Ello, Estelle, my dear. Been awhile, 'asn't it?" His voice was deeper. He was not the child I had met years back. His eyes said he had seen more, been through more.

"It 'as. Did ya miss me?"

"Of course!" He exclaimed with a smirk.

"To be honest, I didn't think ya would've remembered me."

"Not remember _you_? How could I forget! Ya lived with me for a year." He smiled again.

"I did, didn't I?" I leaned forward and took a sip of my warming beer. It seemed liked forever since I had shared a home with the pickpocket before me. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were taking in my changes, my attitude. Looking down from his stare, I found a long, blonde goatee that definitely was not there last I saw him. "What's this, Fagin?" I giggled as I pinched the hair on his chin.

"Makes me look more defined, don't it?"

"Makes ya look older." I pulled my hand away as he chuckled quietly. He looked at me again, except this time with his usual, unreadable stare.

"Where've you been?" His voice was riddled with a care I had never heard before.

"Away."

"But where, dear? I'm quite aware you've been _away_."

"What does it matter, Fagin? I'm 'ere now, ain't I?" I snapped at him but quickly regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I started to apologize but he stopped me.

"No need for apologies. It wasn't my place to ask."

"No, no. You 'ad every right to ask." I looked up at the thief and attempted a smile. He grinned an almost cunning grin.

"Why'd you come back?"

"You're determined to get some sort of answer, ain't ya?" I smiled as a mischievous spark appeared in his eyes.

"You left without a single word in the middle of the night! I deserve some sort of answer."

"I came back 'cause I needed a job." I half lied. "Pickpocketin' wasn't enough." Something in his demeanor told me that he knew I was lying but he didn't address it.

"You can stay with me while you're lookin' for a job, my dear. You're always welcome."

"I might take ya up on that, Fagin. I hadn't really thought about lodgings." I chuckled as I looked down at my empty mug.

"All your things are right where ya left them."

"Ya haven't changed flats? No close calls with the beaks?" I couldn't help but grin when I saw him begin to shake his head.

"No, no. I've had me share of close calls. Just never close enough for me to have to move."

"It'll be nice to be back." I turned my head to the side. "Do ya remember how I ended up here in the first place?" He smiled.

"How could I forget?"

She watched him with wide eyes as he strolled nonchalantly down the street, his swift fingers swiping a wallet from an unsuspecting man, who was more concerned with looking in a shop's window. The pickpocket continued down the street and she followed with haste, but only after making sure he wouldn't notice her. He looked the same age as her, maybe a year or two older; barely 17. It wasn't hard to tell this was what he did for a living. His clothes were torn and worn. The oversized green jacket he wore was the only article that looked somewhat new. But the girl didn't care about his appearance; she didn't look much better.

He ducked down a small alley way, causing her to stop at the entrance. He began flipping through the bills inside, counting his profit. As he began to look around, checking for followers, the young girl hid behind the wall. When she finally found the courage to look back, he was gone. She ran through the alley, attempting to find the boy again.

Her eyes fell on him stealing another wallet, then continuing down the street. Her heart raced as she ran up behind him. Something about the tall boy intrigued her. He didn't seem to notice the tag-along until she spoke.

"Could you teach me how to do that?" She asked quietly. He stopped abruptly and turned to her, giving her an odd look. He had a long face with small features and his sandy hair was pushed back, waving sightly.

"Teach you what?" He responded innocently, putting his hands in his pockets. She looked up at him with bright eyes, noticing the fact he was near two heads taller than her, if not a little more.

"You know what." She fired back with a sheepish smile. He fought smiling back and nodded for her to follow him. She kept up with him, though it was complicated. His long legs made it easier for him to walk faster. "What's your name?"

"Fagin."

"What an odd name." She giggled and looked up to catch his smile.

"And yours?"

"Estelle."

"You, my dear, are the one with the odd name." Fagin snickered as he grabbed her sleeve and pulled her down another road. They walked in silence until he was content with the area, sure that nobody would see them. She leaned up against the nearest wall as he yanked a red handkerchief out of his pocket. "Hide this, my dear. I'll demonstrate on you then you can try on me." The young boy smiled as he held out the cloth. She took it and turned, stuffing it into the left breast pocket of her jacket. When she turned back and looked at the pickpocket, he spun on his heel and began to walk around the small alley. He was humming to himself. She followed his movements before created her own route. Estelle turned quickly when he cleared his throat behind her. He was standing much closer than she suspected. "Excuse me, Miss." He faked a pristine accent.

"Yes, good sir?" She played along with the role.

"I was wondering what a young girl, such as yourself, is doing on the street?" He continued with the act but it was easy to tell he actually wanted to know. She caught on but continued the charade.

"Wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose." She stepped back, knowing at any moment he would make his move to take the handkerchief. He was quick to step forward, clearing more space in one step than she had in two. She stared up at him, clearly entranced. He brought his left hand up to cup the side of her face. In that moment, Estelle forgot about the handkerchief, forgot about her home, or really not having a home. She wanted to know more about this strange blue-eyed boy.

"Such a pretty girl. Too pretty to be thievin' on the streets." He spoke softly before retreating, skipping to the other wall. Her eyes followed him before darting to her pocket. The red cloth was gone. He was smirking at her, flipping the handkerchief around his finger. "Your turn."

"Ya tricked me."

"Yes, I did. But it worked, didn't it?" His eyebrows raised quizzically though it was a rhetorical question.

"I suppose it did. Did ya mean it, though?" It was the question that had been glued to the walls of my mind ever sense the day I met him.

"Mean what, my dear?"

"Did ya mean it when ya said I was pretty?" I was quick to look down, almost fearful of the answer.

"Of course. Why would I lie about such a thing?" He purred. It struck a nerve somewhere deep inside me. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I just shrugged and looked up into his blue eyes.

"I couldn't seem to distract you as well." I paused. "You're a very clever gentleman." His nose scrunched up at the word _gentleman._ His dramatic and animated facial expressions were one of the things I missed most. He was still a very interesting person. Very, very interesting.

"I always 'ave been, my dear Estelle."


	2. His Treasures

_Welp, this took me a while to update. Inspiration struck me last night. _

_Enjoy!_

The next day was insanity. Running around the tavern, carrying mugs and trays, maneuvering through people. It was not the job I had in mind but it was a job none the less. The afternoon crowd had just gone and I was left leaning up against the bar, waiting for something to do.

I sighed realizing that my initial plan had fell through. I had only wanted to see Fagin, earn some quick cash, then leave. He must have figured this, which was why he jumped at the quickest chance to ask a barmaid for a steady job.

I hadn't expected him to accept me back so quickly, though I'm not sure why. I knew he wasn't one to hold grudges. It actually felt nice to have a friend I could depend on. Which made me feel all the worse. He cared. He had always cared. He also seemed to assess my reluctance for being here and knew I was already planning to flee.

* * *

It felt odd being back in my old bed, lying there as I did years ago. I couldn't sleep. I sat up and looked at Fagin's sleeping form across the room. That all too familiar feeling swelled in my stomach. The awful feeling that twisted my insides and set my stomach aflame in fluttering. The feeling that told my mind that I needed to leave.

If I stayed, I knew I would get in over my head; get into things I knew I couldn't get out of. Yet, a new feeling told me that it might be nice to stay. It was an unwelcome feeling.

"You're not going to leave again, are ya?" Fagin's voice shook me from my thoughts. I glanced up to see him sitting up, looking at me through the darkness.

"Why would ya think that?" I replied softly, like I was just imagining him speaking to me.

"It just looks like your up to something, my dear." He softly chuckled. I leaned into the wall and smiled.

"No, I wouldn't leave this soon."

"Ya do plan on leaving, then?" The almost hitch of sadness in his voice took me off guard. I shrugged.

"I don't know what I'm plannin' to do, Fagin."

* * *

I sighed and looked down at myself. My dress was filthy, my hands were raw, my ankles sore, and I didn't even want to guess what my hair looked like. A flicker of movement caught my eye and looked up to see Fagin sitting at one of the empty tables. I walked over but before I could say anything, he spoke.

"Gin, please, dear." He smirked. This was the only place where he could tell me to do something and I would listen, and he clearly was going to milk it for what it was worth. I hated taking orders but I saw he was only poking fun at me. I returned a moment later with his gin and started to walk away again. "Please, sit with me, Estelle." I hesitated, looking around the room to see if I had any work to be done before I sat down. "Don't worry, my dear! It won't be busy again for a few hours." He waved his hand toward the rest of the tavern as he smiled at me. "Besides, you'll be leavin' before then."

"Why would I be leavin'?" I sat down and rested my chin in my palm.

"You've been workin' all day! They can't expect ya to be work all night too." I nodded and waited for him to finish his gin in silence. Once he finished, he paused and stared at me.

"What?" I stared back, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He stood and began walking away.

"Lets go, Estelle, my dear." He spoke without even bothering to look back. I contemplated following him for a moment then stood and looked around for another one of the barmaids. When I finally saw one, Helena, I called out to her.

"I'm leavin' for the night." She waved me on and I wasted no time catching up to Fagin, who was already outside. The sky around us was turning from the bright pinks and oranges of sunset to the dark, starlight of night. People were going inside and shutting there windows and doors, preparing themselves to get up and start a new day tomorrow. The night crowd was coming out, walking toward the tavern and at just about the same time, the sneaky villains and crooks hid in the shadows.

Then there was Fagin and I.

I wasn't quite sure where we were going or what we were going to do; he didn't seem to know either. At a quick thought and a flick of the fingers, I silently pulled Fagin's wallet out of his pocket. I flipped it open and began searching through the very few notes he had in it.

"I thought you would carry more cash on ya, Fagin. A thief like you should know the dangers of leavin' cash at home." He turned quickly and snatched the wallet from my fingers.

"And you should know the dangers of keepin' cash on ya." He stuffed the wallet in one of his vest pockets, clearly hiding it from my reach. Next, I took his handkerchief. I flipped it over my head and wore it as a shawl.

"Suits me, don't it, Fagin?" He turned with a smile, before taking it and putting it back where it was.

"You've gotten a lot better, haven't ya? Last time, you could barely get the kerchief without me feelin' it." While he continued walking, he leaned in a bit closer. "And to be honest, I let ya take it a few times just to make ya feel like ya knew what you were doin'."

"You're awful." I swatted him on the shoulder. We both fell silent and I stared at the road ahead. I heard a few coins rattle and I looked over to Fagin holding my red change purse, glancing inside. "Hey, hey!" I reached up and pulled it from his hands as he started to laugh. His arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulder and he pulled me a bit closer.

"I missed ya, Estelle."

"Missed me? I've only been gone a few 'ours." I looked up at him, trying to look calm though I was slightly panicking inside. These were the feelings I left for, yet something about this felt good; maybe these were also the feelings I came back for. I'd never let him know that though. He smiled and a small chuckle left him.

"No, no. I meant while you were away all those years."

"Oh." I paused, not wanting to stumble over my words. "I missed ya too, Fagin." After a few more moments of silence, I realized Fagin did know where he was going. We were walking back home, just on a different route. Once more, my hand slipped into his pocket but this time I pulled out an odd broach looking item. "Where did ya get this?" His arm slipped from around me as he took it.

"I picked it off of a woman standin' outside the tavern."

"It's too pretty to be just an ordinary broach. Are those diamonds?" I pointed at the gems. He shrugged.

"I 'aven't a clue." I started up the stairs to the flat and I heard his footsteps follow. I put my back up against the wall next to the door, waiting for him to unlock it.

"I think I should get a key." I said, looking to him.

"Do ya? Well, it depends how long you stay, my dear. Can't have you just disappearing with my key."

"I wouldn't run off with your key. I'd leave it before I left."

"Exactly why I'm not giving you one." He opened the door and I followed him him. "Ya can't leave without your things, and ya can't get your things without a key." He smiled as I huffed. He had a fine logic.

"Fagin. I wouldn't leave without tellin' ya."

"Ya did last time." I wanted to retort that last time was different but I held my tongue. I didn't need him asking why. So instead, I sat down heavily on my bed and looked at him. He smiled an infuriating smile that he wore only because he had won the small argument. I couldn't be mad at him though. He had every reason not to trust me. I reached under the bed and pulled out my bag. It took a few moments before I found my night gown and I stalked off to the other room. Once dressed, I walked out to see Fagin sitting by the fire, sitting leaned back and almost reclined in his chair, staring intently at the flames.

"I'm going to bed. Night, Fagin."

"Night, Estelle." His voice had an odd ring to it, like he was up to something.

A shuffling sound awoke me in the middle of the night. The flame had died down some but it was still bright. I could see the outline of Fagin sitting in the floor in front of it, looking down at something. Silently, I stood and crept up behind him. He was searching through a box. I sat down cross-legged behind him and sat my head on his shoulder, looking into his lap. He seemed to freeze.

"What are ya doing?" I asked quietly. He jerked away, moving to where his back was up against his chair and he pushed the box beneath it, hiding it from my view. He stared with wide eyes. I realized what must have been in that box. "Fagin, I wouldn't steal from ya. Ya don't need to 'ide." He seemingly calmed a bit but said nothing. "I promise." Again, he said nothing. "I'll just go back ta bed then, I'll let ya be." I went to stand but he grabbed my wrist.

"No, Estelle. You can stay. I ain't used to having people see me treasure." He paused. "_No one_ has seen me treasure." I crossed my legs again, facing the fire but glanced up at him.

"Can I see them?" My voice was soft. He smiled and moved over, sitting shoulder to shoulder with me. He sat the box on our touching knees and opened it.

"These are my pretty things, my dear."

"What do ya keep them for?" I asked as I began to rummage through the variety of things. There were jewelry, pins, broaches, etc. Everything pretty thing you could imagine was in this box.

"Retirement, dear." I gave him a questioning look.

"Fagin, you're barely in your twenties." He smiled at my statement then moved in close like he was going to tell a secret.

"Maybe I want to retire early." He concluded his statement with a small nod and a grin.


End file.
